Don't Tell Me
by Debb
Summary: Title from the Florence and the Machine song.  Hawke gives up his lover to the manifesto for another night and is none too pleased. M!Hawke/Anders.


**Don't Tell Me  
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It's been building up for days, just waiting to explode.

He's alone in bed. It's the third night in a row that he has been. Anders is in one of the other rooms, hunched over that damned manifesto of his. August doesn't know which room and is in the type of mood where he doesn't much _care. _No, that's wrong. He cares about the fact Anders is not in _that _room, with him. He cares about that, despite his curls up in the bed, covers pulled up over his shoulder. He tries to sleep, his eyes spring open the moment he closes them. He sighs and sits up once more.

He gets up from the bed, decides he's better off finding something to do rather than lying, tossing and turning. The house is quiet, everyone else is asleep. All but him and Anders, though he wishes that were otherwise. He's barely seen him the past few days. When he's not obsessing over his manifesto, he's spending far too much time around the Gallows that even _Carver_ notices, few and far between times Hawke manages to see and speak to his brother. He returns to the estate to rant about how many Tranquil there are and August is sure Anders knows he's doesn't really listen now, that he'll just nod, let him rant till it's out of his system. That doesn't help either, it simply makes Anders annoyed and stalks off to work on the damn thing again. Somehow the manifesto has become like a mistress, stealing Anders away from him and being _there _when he is not, cannot be. There's only so much justice he can take.

He finds himself in the study, the scribbling of Anders' quill against the paper the only sound to break the silence. Anders doesn't even notice him. He follows the sound, finds Anders at the table, candle just about burnt out. August is sure Anders is going to give himself terrible backache when he finally decides to get up. _Good enough for him _one bitter part of his mind says. The other, far more forgiving, thinks he should try and coax him away from the thing.

He approaches the table and kneels down at the side of it. Anders barely even looks up.

"How long have you been sitting here?" he says, his gaze going to Anders' appearance and the other candles that have long since burnt out.

Anders shrugs. "Here, how does this sound?" He thrusts out a page from the pile.

August scowls and bats it away. "I'm not reading it. Not at this hour."

Anders finally stops writing and sits up straight.

"Have you been here all night?"

Anders nods. "I had to get it finished. Or at least try to..."

"No, Anders, you didn't." He looks at the mage, sees dark circles starting to form under his eyes. "When did you last sleep?"

Anders scowls too now. "Does it matter?"

"It matters to _me. _Come to bed and give that bloody thing a rest."

This seems to be entirely the wrong thing to say as Anders glares at him, doesn't say another word and pointedly starts writing again. August stands up, fists clenched and resists the urge to throw the entire pile across the room and set fire to it. He stalks out of the room without another word, Anders content to let him.

Anders doesn't come to bed, he leaves for the clinic before Hawke gets up. Hawke hears him leave, having got no sleep himself. He tries again to doze, fails then gets up and pesters Aveline for work. Thanks to this he's out for a majority of the day and Anders is home before him.

He gets to the estate after dark. He opens his mouth to call to his mother, stops himself and calls himself for a fool. It's out of habit that he does it, even now. She's gone, she's not coming back. Instead, he calls for Anders, not really expecting an answer. He doesn't get one and this just annoys him.

He goes to his room and is surprised to find Anders already there, curled up in the bed. Hawke approaches it, sits down on the edge and pulls his boots off.

"Your manifesto finally get fed up of your ranting?" he says. He's being completely childish, making a snide comment where it's unneeded.

"_Don't _August," Anders answers. Not 'love', he's still in a mood over the night before. Fine, let him.

"I'm getting some dinner. Come down or don't, it's all the same to me." It's not of course, but Maker he can be a bastard when he feels like it.

Anders doesn't say anything, lets him leave. Hawke is halfway down the stairs when he hears footsteps, he turns around, finds Anders there. At least food will still tempt him back, even if the promise of a warm bed won't. It's one good thing about Grey Warden appetites. Anders takes the meal after it's made, leaves again and Hawke later finds him over the manifesto. He swears and slams the door.

~

It's the next night before Anders does give up, either because he's too tired or he realises that Hawke is upset with him. Hawke is once more awake when Anders crawls into bed. He looks over from his careful study of the ceiling, doesn't say anything, but puts one arm around Anders' shoulders when he wraps one arm around Hawke's waist. Anders stays quiet too, no apology for putting his cause first. Hawke doesn't expect one, he's learned not to, not unless he wants to be disappointed. This is about as close as he gets.

These nights are becoming all too frequent, when Anders chains himself to a desk, ignores everything around him. He losing himself to this spirit, to Justice, and Hawke doesn't know what to do.


End file.
